What If You’re Not Starting Over—You’re Finally Starting as Yourself?
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about starting over.
Except…I don’t really think I’m starting over.
Maybe I’m just finally starting as me.
And yes, I realize that sounds like one of those inspirational quotes somebody would slap over a picture of a sunrise and post on Facebook.
Stay with me.
Because I don’t mean it like that.
I mean the messy version.
The version where sometimes I look at my life and think…
Girl. You are in your 40s. Shouldn’t we have figured some of this shit out by now?
Shouldn’t I know exactly who I am?
Shouldn’t my career be completely figured out?
Shouldn’t I be better with money?
Shouldn’t I have perfect routines?
Shouldn’t I know exactly what I want my future to look like?
Shouldn’t I wake up every morning, drink my water, exercise, journal, answer every email, eat something healthy and somehow have matching socks?
Because I can tell you right now…
I do not.
Some days I feel like I have grown SO much.
Other days I’m standing in the kitchen trying to remember why I walked in there.
So there’s that.
But something has changed.
I’m starting to realize that maybe there isn’t some magical age where we’re supposed to arrive and suddenly have life figured out.
Maybe we just keep meeting new versions of ourselves.
And lately, I’ve been meeting a version of myself I actually really like.
Not because she has everything together.
Trust me. She does not.
But because she’s finally starting to understand that she doesn’t have to.
I used to think I was behind.
This one is hard to admit.
There are absolutely moments when I look around and think about where I could have been by now.
What if I had believed in myself sooner?
What if I had gone after certain things earlier?
What if I had made different choices?
What if I hadn't spent so much time afraid?
What if I had figured myself out at 25 instead of still trying to figure myself out in my 40s?
And that rabbit hole can get deep really damn fast.
Because once you start playing the “what if” game, your brain apparently has unlimited data.
Suddenly it has a PowerPoint presentation ready.
Charts.
Graphs.
Supporting documentation.
A full list of every questionable decision you've made since approximately 1997.
Thanks, brain.
Very helpful.
But lately I've been trying to look at it differently.
Because the woman I am today didn't just appear.
She came from somewhere.
She came from every version of me that existed before her.
Even the versions I wish had done things differently.
There are parts of my life I wish hadn't happened.
I'm not going to sit here and tell you that everything happens for a reason.
Because honestly?
Sometimes things just suck.
Sometimes people hurt us.
Sometimes we make choices we wish we could undo.
Sometimes years go by while we're just trying to survive whatever life put in front of us.
And I don't think we have to turn every painful thing into some beautiful life lesson just to make it acceptable.
Some things hurt.
Some things changed us.
Some things took pieces of us that took a long damn time to get back.
That's real.
And there is grief in realizing how much time you spent surviving when you wish you had been living.
I think we should be allowed to say that.
Without immediately following it with something positive.
Because sometimes healing is simply being able to say:
That hurt me.
I lost something there.
I wish it had been different.
And then, eventually…
you keep going.
But here's the part I'm starting to understand.
I couldn't have started this chapter as the woman I was twenty years ago.
Hell, I probably couldn't have started it as the woman I was five years ago.
Because I didn't know what I know now.
I didn't trust myself the way I do now.
I didn't understand boundaries the way I do now.
I didn't understand my own mental health the way I do now.
I didn't understand how important it is to actually listen to yourself instead of constantly trying to become whatever everyone else needs you to be.
And I'm still learning all of those things.
That's the funny part.
There was no big moment where the universe handed me a certificate saying:
CONGRATULATIONS ROBIN. YOU HAVE OFFICIALLY FOUND YOURSELF.
I would frame it if there was.
Instead, it's been tiny things.
Saying no when I would've said yes.
Speaking up when I would've stayed quiet.
Trying something even though I'm scared it'll fail.
Letting myself want things.
Changing my mind.
Starting something new.
Being proud of myself without immediately finding a reason why I shouldn't be.
And maybe most importantly…
realizing that I actually get a say in what happens next.
I'm building something right now that scares me a little.
Okay.
Maybe more than a little.
The Messy Human Masterpiece started as thoughts and words and pieces of my own life.
And now I'm looking at an actual book.
I'm building this blog.
I'm making videos.
I'm putting pieces of myself out into the world and saying,
Hey. Maybe something I've lived through or learned could help somebody else feel a little less alone.
And that is exciting.
But it's also terrifying.
Because dreaming privately is safe.
Nobody can reject the thing you never show them.
Nobody can tell you it isn't good enough.
Nobody can watch you fail.
But nobody can connect with it either.
And I'm starting to realize that I would rather try.
Messily.
Imperfectly.
Probably while overthinking half of it and Googling things I feel like I should already know.
But trying.
Because I don't want to get another ten years down the road and wonder what would've happened if I had just believed in myself enough to begin.
So maybe you're not behind either.
Maybe you're 27.
Maybe you're 43.
Maybe you're 58.
Maybe you're 72.
Maybe you have absolutely no clue what comes next.
Welcome.
Grab a chair.
Apparently none of us received the instruction manual.
Maybe you want to change careers.
Write something.
Leave something.
Start something.
Go back to school.
Learn who you are outside of the roles you've played for everyone else.
Or maybe your big brave thing right now is simply getting through the week.
That counts too.
You don't have to reinvent your entire life by Monday morning.
You don't need a five-year plan.
You don't need perfect confidence.
You don't even have to know exactly where you're going.
Sometimes you just need to admit:
I don't want to stay exactly where I am.
And then take one tiny step.
That's it.
One.
Because maybe starting later isn't something to be embarrassed about.
Maybe you needed to live first.
Maybe you needed to screw some things up.
Maybe you needed to survive some things.
Maybe you needed to lose yourself a few times before you learned how to recognize yourself.
And maybe the person starting now isn't late at all.
Maybe she's finally ready.
I'm still messy.
I still overthink.
I still have days where I doubt myself.
I still don't know exactly where all of this is going.
But for the first time in a long time, I don't need to know.
I just know I'm moving.
I'm creating.
I'm trying.
I'm becoming.
And I'm doing it as myself.
Not the person I thought I was supposed to be.
Not the person somebody else needed me to be.
Not some perfectly healed version of me that doesn't actually exist.
Just me.
Messy.
Still learning.
Still figuring shit out.
Still showing up anyway.
And maybe that's not starting over.
Maybe that's finally starting.
—Robin
The Messy Human Masterpiece
Messy doesn’t mean broken. Sometimes it just means human.
This hit home! Thank you for sharing! It’s very encouraging!